


Like bringing color to children

by distinctive_pineapples



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11185149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distinctive_pineapples/pseuds/distinctive_pineapples
Summary: “Lance," Shiro started, his "dad face" already at a maximum (because holycrow,he actuallywasa dad now, and Lance was about to be very, very dead). "Is there a reason why you just called my daughter an animated lion?”Lance ends up nicknaming Shiro and Allura's newborn daughter after an animated lion. It's met with mixed reactions, but at one point or another, everyone caves.





	1. What a Wonderful Name

**Author's Note:**

> It's only Monday, and I'm already exhausted, but I guess that's what I get for spending almost the entire weekend working on VLD fic. 
> 
> This concept has been rattling around in my head since late last summer, and although it initially started off as a joke, it evolved into something more concrete as time went on (and then developed some crazy mythology as I was writing). I had started things off a few months back but didn't get anywhere beyond the opening scene, so after posting "Hit It Off" yesterday morning, I decided to give it another try, maybe write a little bit more. 
> 
> I didn't expect to end up with a complete first chapter clocking in at over 4K. And naturally, because I'm incapable of letting a complete chapter sit in my documents for too long, I immediately wanted to post. 
> 
> (I managed to hold off until now, but still.)
> 
> Anyways, this takes place some years post-Galra Empire (an undetermined point in the future, though I envision the younger paladins somewhere in their twenties), when Voltron isn't as much of a necessity and the paladins are semi-retired, free to pursue new paths in life. (That ended up becoming a pretty big part of this concept, because I have ideas for everyone's future.) They all still keep in touch, and of course, everyone is brought back together because of a Shallura baby. Who Lance immediately nicknames after an animated lion. 
> 
> It's a bit of a "where are they now," a hint of drama, and a good dose of silliness, all in the context of a babyfic. 
> 
> A couple initial notes: we open with a bit of outsider POV, which I really enjoyed, but if it isn't your thing it's only in the very first segment. Additionally, for the characters who do not currently have canonical last names in this series, I'm using those from the prior incarnation (despite never having watched it). As for the rating, I'm still waffling on it. The vast majority of it is General Audiences, but Pidge kind of throws a wrench in that (but not too terribly). 
> 
> More notes to come at the end. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Story title from "Lily" by the Elms. Considering we're talking about color-coded characters and a baby, it seemed incredibly fitting. The opening chapter title is, of course, a _Lion King_ homage.)

Unlike many of her peers, Nicki genuinely enjoyed Professor McClain’s team-building seminars.

It wasn’t like McClain was universally despised—quite the contrary, as he was most students’ favorite professor and was a highly-revered pilot across the entire Garrison base. Since he was younger than most of his colleagues and very laid-back, cadets found it easier to open up to him than to some of the more distinguished professors, and McClain approached his role as more of a mentor figure than a commanding officer. He certainly got bonus points with the new recruits for his sense of humor and tales of his antics from his own cadet days—a calming gesture for when the terror of washing out of the program was running high.

Of course, McClain’s mysterious past was another key element to his popularity. Even the youngest Garrison students had heard the tale of the three cadets who had once vanished from the base during a lockdown procedure. If they weren’t already aware, they would eventually learn that the missing students returned years later, and that one of them was named Lance McClain.

That was about everything anyone knew about the situation—McClain and his cohorts’ records were locked down almost immediately, and any data on his rapid ascension through the Garrison ranks following his return were even more classified.

(Cal, the communications officer of Nicki’s team, had once tried to hack his way into the restricted information on the Garrison server to dig up the truth. He had only been able to make it through a few firewalls before he was booted out by an unknown source. Whoever it was must have hacked Cal back or done something as payback, because he was easily convinced that giving up was the best option and had been quite skittish about the color green ever since.)

When asked directly about what had happened during that missing time, all McClain would say was, “Lots and lots of team-building,” with a subtle smirk, before changing the subject.

Nicki supposed that the response had something to do with the existence of the teamwork seminars—“Project PALadin’,” as McClain informally called it, though no one was quite sure why. No such course had existed before McClain was hired on as an instructor, so it was pretty clear that it had been his brainchild.

The class was… strange, to say the least. It was mandatory following the assignment of flight teams, and involved groups working their way through a number of physical and intellectual teamwork exercises. Such activities were already groan-inducing to most of the students, and McClain’s roster of tasks was certainly _special_. Forget trust falls—walking blindfolded through a maze (and often into a wall) while a teammate reads off directions was the new way to build teams and embarrass oneself in front of a bunch of onlookers.

McClain also encouraged cooperation between flight teams—unheard of in Garrison history—as well as a bit of role rotation within the three-person groups, such as letting the engineer take point in some tasks. It was a deconstruction of long-held Garrison traditions, but it appeared to be working, as Nicki was closer to her teammates and even some of the rival flight crews.

The day’s assignment was a single-team scenario, which was intended to highlight each member’s skill sets and utilize them in an effort to survive a hypothetical crash-landing in unknown territory. McClain was making the rounds throughout the room to eavesdrop on each group and toss in a comment here and there.

Considering he was far from the front of the room, McClain was unaware that his phone was buzzing on top of his desk, the near-constant vibrations transporting it a few centimeters across the surface.

Before Nicki or anyone else near the front could alert the instructor, the device went silent and still. A few seconds later, though, the screen at the front of the lecture hall blinked on, showcasing an icon of a green grinning face with glasses against the black background.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nicki saw Cal turn nearly translucent at the image. However, before she could think on that anymore, a growl of _“LANCE, ANSWER YOUR_ QUIZNAKING _PHONE!”_ erupted from the room’s speaker system.

McClain _shrieked_.

Oblivious to the gaping students around him, he flew down the stairs of the lecture hall and all but crashed into the desk at the front. “Kinda busy with a class here, Pidge!” he shouted back at the screen, seemingly aware that the intruder was able to see and hear him.

There was a scoff, but the voice on the other end lowered the volume. _“Well, excuse me for being considerate and trying to contact you with the big news. I distinctly recall you threatening to repaint Green if I didn’t alert you when ‘Code: Circle of Life’ came up.”_

McClain went still at that. “You mean…?”

_“I mean Keith sent the message out the moment Allura was admitted, because Shiro was a bit preoccupied. Hunk’s already en-route.  Considering none of us had heard anything from you, I figured you didn’t get the memo and tried calling you. Now we’re here.”_

A tiny squeal of joy escaped McClain’s throat, and he scrambled to pack up his materials. “You have the coordinates?”

_“Green’s transmitting them to Blue right now. Race you there.”_

“You’re on, O Short One,” he fired back, and the voice on the other end let out a noise of disgust before the screen winked out. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, McClain turned around, as if remembering he had students watching him who probably needed an explanation.

“We’ll pick this up next time. Go spend the rest of the class period doing your own team-bonding, and if anyone calls you out on it, tell them to go kiss a weblum.” With a smug smile on his face, he strode over to the window and popped it open. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to bear witness to the birth of a new generation.”

At that, he leapt out the window, and the cadets ran to crowd around it in awe. By the time any of them were able to get a good glimpse, though, McClain had vanished, just like in the Garrison legend.

Nicki didn’t move, as she was still in too much shock from what she had been able to see from her seat. There was no way that McClain had jumped into the mouth of a giant blue robot lion, which had immediately taken off for the stars.

* * *

Lance hadn’t expected to head back to Amri anytime soon—at least, not since he started full-time at the Garrison—but he was glad to make the trip again. Though primarily a water planet, Amri had a number of islands that allowed for civilization on land as well as in the sea. It was the perfect reminder of home for Lance, though it still didn’t beat the real thing.

Blue, ever the water lion, let a pleased rumble pass through their bond, and Lance stroked her console in agreement. Being within Amri’s orbit was comforting to both lion and paladin, as if the planet itself was drawing them in due to their water affinity.

As they made their descent to land on the main island, Lance had to wonder if it had been a matter of convenience for Allura to land on Amri for this event, or if she (rather, the new quintessence within her) had been drawn here as well.

Much to Lance’s disappointment, Blue was the last lion to join the others in front of the large structure on the edge of the island, though Pidge was just descending from Green’s mouth when Blue touched down.

“Alright, pay up,” she greeted as soon as Lance hit the sand and headed towards her. “I take cash, credit, New Altean currency, and spare parts.” She held out a fingerless gloved hand and beckoned with it.

Lance huffed. “Nope, we never even agreed on the amount, doesn’t count. I can give you a show of my undying friendship as recompense, though.”

“That shit won’t pay for technological breakthroughs, Lance.”

“Language. And too bad, you’re getting it anyway.” At that, he scooped the semi-retired Green Paladin into a hug, despite her protests. In the years that had passed since they flew screaming into the stars in the Blue Lion, Pidge had grown maybe a few inches, and had cut even more off of her hair. She now sported an undercut, with a patch of slightly longer hair on top sweeping to the right.

“Garrison Trio Group Hug, engaged!” came an excited shout from somewhere off to the side, and within seconds all of the air had been knocked out of Lance’s lungs. With a wheeze, he craned his head to see a familiar orange ribbon fluttering in his face.

“Hunk… bud, great to… see you,” he eked out, patting the yellow-clad shoulder next to him. “Think we’re… squashing Pidge into oblivion, though…”

“Ah, sorry!” Hunk yelped, just as a muffled shout of, “I’m not _that_ short!” came from somewhere deep within the paladin pile. Hunk immediately stepped back, and Lance gasped in a breath as Pidge popped back into existence.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while.” Pidge offered Hunk her fist as she cracked her neck. “How’s the restaurant/garage coming along?”

Hunk met the extended fist with his own, and the two commenced some super-special engineer fist-bump/handshake routine. “Everything’s going great. We’re getting lots of traffic, and I’m looking to branch out into a few other sectors. Business going okay for you?”

“Oh, you know, catching cheating spouses, solving a disappearance or two, the occasional government job. It funds my work in the coming robot revolution, so I can’t complain.”

Hunk nodded, before turning to Lance and pulling him into a slightly less bone-crushing hug. “So, Professor McClain, you put Iverson in his place yet?”

“You know it!” Lance laughed, smacking his friend on the back. In all that time living and fighting lightyears away from Earth, Lance had never expected to set foot on the Galaxy Garrison’s base again. Not because he never thought he’d make it home—no, that was the one thing he had been adamant to make a reality—but because there really wasn’t anything there for him anymore. He’d been a misfit, a second-choice, whose dreams seemed unlikely to be fulfilled. Then Blue chose him, brought him to a whole new galaxy, and allowed him to be an integral part of something bigger than himself.

The Garrison would _never_ have given him that. And yet, that’s precisely why he came back in the end.

After the war, Allura had been looking to expand the Voltron Alliance, and Earth had come up as a potential member. Though it was far from the Alliance’s main reach, it was home to all five paladins, and Allura understood all-too-well the importance of protecting one’s home planet, should anything as horrific as the Galra Empire come to pass in the future.

As the Galaxy Garrison was the primary authority on everything space-related, negotiations started there. Though both parties were wary, they came to an agreement; one clause of which called for a representative from each faction to hold a position within the other.

At this point, the Garrison was unaware that the core of the Voltron Alliance included the three missing cadets, a disgraced student, and the supposedly lost Kerberos crew, all of whom were already well acquainted with the Garrison and its policies. They would really only need one representative in total, and there were plenty of candidates to choose from… at least, at the beginning.

The three Holts were the first to decline. Sam should have been due for retirement after returning from Kerberos, and intended to follow through with that plan; Matt wasn’t all that much of a diplomat, so he was out too; and Pidge had her own plans back on Earth, where she could finally reunite her entire family.

No one dared ask Shiro, not after _that night_ , when the Garrison had taken a decorated officer and planned to treat him as some sort of lab rat. Besides, his place was at Allura’s side, heading up the Alliance.

Hunk was working on his own project within the Alliance, and Keith…

Well, the day anyone appointed Keith Kogane as the ambassador between the Voltron Alliance and the Galaxy Garrison would be the day Zarkon danced the can-can.

Which left Lance. He’d missed Earth with all his heart—missed his family, his home—but with so many members of his _other_ family staying behind in the stars, he didn’t want to be cut off. It would be easy to visit them in Blue, but there was a difference between taking a vacation and making a change.

There was no love lost between Lance and the Garrison, but Lance had to wonder if there were any new cadets who felt like he had back then—overlooked, with seemingly unattainable dreams. And that, _that_ had made his decision.

(The joke had been on him—even before the declines had started, everyone was in unanimous agreement to make Lance the representative.)

Iverson’s remaining eye had just about bulged out of his skull when Lance and Blue first made their entrance, but he had conceded once Lance had named his conditions. “Professor McClain” had just been the start—a mere formality, if anything. The key point was the ability to restructure the curriculum so that _all_ students could feel like they were worth their skills, and to improve their abilities to function as a team. It was an ongoing, ever-evolving project, but it _worked_.

Lance was pulled out of his thoughts by the hiss of an automatic door opening and footsteps stopping just short of the group.

“I called you all here for a reason, and you’re just standing in the parking lot? Unbelievable.”

“We’re just catching up. If you were so concerned about it, you should have come out here sooner,” Lance shot back, but grinned and made finger guns at the newcomer. “’Sup, Keith? You’re looking as mullet-y as ever.”

“Lance.” Keith crossed his arms as if sulking, though the smirk twitching in the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

It dropped a moment later, though, and his eyes widened almost in panic. “Seriously, we need to get moving. I have no idea how this works for Alteans—and I honestly don’t _want_ to know—so this might be over sooner rather than later. Shiro was freaking out that last time I saw him, and Coran has been my only source of information, if you can call his blubbering about the beauty of life ‘updates.’ Situation now, catch up later?”

They must have been quite the sight as they barreled through the doors of the Amriian Medical Center—a broad-shouldered guy in a yellow chef’s coat, a gremlin in a green army jacket and boots, a disheveled military officer, and a red-suited New Altean royal bodyguard, all running shrieking down the main hallway.

It was easy enough to find Coran once they scrambled out of the elevator and onto the 5th floor, as his celebratory tears could be heard throughout the entire wing. He greeted each of them with weepy yet strong-armed hugs that made even Hunk gasp for breath.

“Can’t be more than few dobashes now!” Coran announced, and the rest of the group shared a terrified glance. “Of course, it could be longer given the child is half-human, but the rest of the process has aligned with Altean standards. My, I haven’t done this since Allura herself came into this world. The queen had been…”

Before he could continue and scar the paladins with tales of their friend’s origins, the door to room 532 slammed open, and Shiro staggered into the threshold. His right hand—a prosthetic that Pidge and Hunk had designed a few years earlier to replace the Galra arm—was crumpled as if it had been squeezed with considerable force, and his eyes were glazed over.

Lance had watched Shiro, half-dead, pick himself up and keep fighting. Seeing him stumble through a few steps and promptly drop his head onto Keith’s shoulder was _terrifying_.

“Ihvafrrfrr,” he mumbled into the fabric of Keith’s jacket as the Red Paladin awkwardly patted him on the back.

“Wait, was he actually speaking words there, or is he, you know, _dying_?” Hunk asked, reaching out as if to check Shiro’s pulse.

Before he could do so, Shiro’s head shot up—his shock of white hair flopping comically—and he cried, “I have a daughter!”

And _that_ was when all hell broke loose.

* * *

“Ooh, she’s so precious!” Hunk cooed, tears welling in his eyes as they all crowded around Allura’s bed. Compared to the horror film-worthy daze they’d found her husband in, Allura was surprisingly collected, despite having just brought her own child into the world. She looked a bit disheveled and exhausted, but certainly not to the extent that Lance had expected. Then again, this was _Allura_ —healer of Balmeras, magical alien princess, and all-around badass. _Of course_ she was going to take something like giving birth in stride and barely break a sweat.

(Although, Shiro’s mangled hand suggested that there was at least a bit of a rough patch…)

Said child was the subject of Hunk’s outburst and everyone’s attention. Swaddled in a tiny Voltron-colored blanket that Lance himself had made and gifted the royal couple of New Altea some time ago, the newborn was a perfect blend of her parents. She had Allura’s coloring and the pink Altean markings, but her ears were more rounded (though still with a slight point) and her nose was all Shiro. Even the little tufts of hair on her head were a mixture of bright white and bold black.

Yeah, _precious_ was probably the best word.

“You can hold her, if you’d like,” Allura directed at Hunk, though she also nodded at the other paladins as well. “But just as a warning, even infant Alteans can have a fair amount of strength. Keep an eye out if she starts grabbing at anything.”

Shiro nodded solemnly and held up his pinky, which looked even more crushed than the rest of his prosthetic hand.

Hunk was murmuring quiet compliments at the baby as he held her carefully in his arms, so Pidge hit the next matter of business. “Any name yet?”

Shiro and Allura shared a glance before turning back to the others and nodding.

“We settled on Alcora Hoshiko,” Shiro revealed.

It was an intriguing combination of names, but it seemed right for a child of an Altean princess—now queen—and the Black Paladin. There was a certain magic to it. Still, it just didn’t _fully_ connect with Lance. But maybe that would change once he had the chance to hold her and get a closer look.

Keith seemed to be turning over the name in his mind as well. “I take it ‘Alcora’ is an Altean name.”

“It is!” Coran confirmed excitedly. “Derived from Queen Alcorine the Fearless. Variations thereof were quite popular, as they reflected parents’ wishes for their children to be as strong and courageous as their namesake.”

Allura smiled. “Coran is right about naming her after someone strong and courageous, and partially correct about the name itself. Alcorine _was_ one of my favorite historical figures, but the reason we settled on this particular version was because of someone else entirely.” She looked up. “Coran, you’ve been just as much of a father to me as my own father was, and you’re one of the bravest men I know.”

Coran went still at that, dumbfounded. “You mean…?”

Allura gave a gentle nod. “Of course. There’s no one else after whom I’d rather name my child.”

Coran took in a deep, shaky breath as if he planned to say more, but instead he shook his head, a watery smile peeking out beneath his moustache.

It was truly a touching story and gave the name so much more meaning, but there was still something itching in the back of Lance’s mind, telling him that there was so much _more_ to it than that. Blue was being pushy too, tugging on their bond so she could get a look at the baby.

That chance came sooner than expected. Overcome with emotion from that heartwarming confession, Hunk hastily yet gently passed Alcora to Lance as he began scrounging for a tissue.

Lance gathered the multicolored bundle in his arms, years of experience with younger siblings and nieces and nephews kicking into gear. Once the baby was comfortably nestled in his arms, he looked down. “Hey there….”

Huh. Weird that Hunk didn’t say anything about that blue… _aura_ surrounding her. Was that normal?

Blue gave a particularly insistent tug, and suddenly both lion and paladin snapped into the same headspace, staring reverently at the child, the newest Altean princess, a… future Blue Paladin?

Oh, Black was going to be _peeved_ when she found out. But hey, did that mean that Lance was automatically the favorite uncle?

There was that feeling again, that urge to fill the gap in her given name that no one else could sense. A thought from Blue explained that it was a part of naming one’s successor—actually _naming_ the eventual paladin.

Thankfully, it sounded like it was more in a nickname sense, so hopefully Allura wouldn’t kill him _quite_ as much for what he was about to do.

“…Nala.”

Almost immediately, the itch vanished, and the world righted itself again—no blue glow around the baby in his arms, and Blue was rumbling contently in the back of his mind.

Unfortunately, based off of the stares that greeted Lance when he lifted his head, he wasn’t as discreet about the situation as he’d hoped.

“You’re really going all-out with the whole ‘Circle of Life’ thing, aren’t you?” Pidge deadpanned.

“Lance,” Shiro started, his “dad face” already at a maximum (because holy _crow_ , he actually _was_ a dad now, and his daughter was going to be the Blue Paladin one day, and Lance was about to be very, very dead). “Is there a reason why you just called my daughter an animated lion?”

“Uh…” Lance hesitated, just as Allura murmured, “Animated lion?”

Yeah, this was not going to go over well _at all._

“Well, you see,” he tried again, “apparently there’s, ah, a sort of ceremonial ‘naming’—really, it’s just nicknaming—that comes with choosing… a successor. To a lion. A Voltron lion. Like Blue. Take it up with her.”

At that, Lance snapped his mouth and eyes shut and prepared to be eviscerated—whether verbally or physically—by two of the scariest _good_ people he knew, because he just told them that their not-even-a-varga-old child was destined to be a paladin one day. Oh, and because he had just nicknamed her after an animated lion. Most likely because of the latter.

“… _What_.”

Lance cracked an eye open and had to keep from laughing at the look of bewilderment on Shiro’s face. Confused as he was, Lance still wasn’t going to risk upsetting him.

Allura… it was hard to read the expression on her face. She wasn’t as comically stunned as Shiro, but there was a volatile mixture of emotions brewing beneath the surface. If any of it was anger, Lance only hoped that he was well out of her path when it finally burst.

“I’ve never heard of anything like this,” she said quietly. “Granted, the lions had never chosen successors so far in advance, and there is much we still don’t know about their sentient nature.”

“Lion magic,” Lance shrugged. “I stopped trying to understand it a _long_ time ago.”

Keith scoffed. “Assuming any of this is true, why ‘Nala’?”

“Blue and I… may have watched _The Lion King_ together a few times.” Lance shook his head. “I don’t know, it just came to me. Maybe because Nala starts out as this cute little lion cub, but she grows up to be fierce and courageous and strong, and isn’t that what ‘Alcora’ means already? We’re basically doubling that wish.”

The reaction was a mixture of nods and skeptical looks.

“It… it’s kind of cute,” Hunk admitted. “I mean, she _is_ a lion cub, in a sense.”

Keith crossed his arms. “Maybe so, but she already has a name—a _meaningful_ one.”

“I still go by the name I used to illegally enter a government program, and I have at least five fake IDs in my wallet right now,” Pidge said, raising her hands. “I’m staying out of this one.”

In the end, it wasn’t really their place to say if it was okay to call the child by a nickname so soon after she’d received her given name. Lance turned to the couple at the head of the bed expectantly.

Allura opened her mouth to say something, but slowly closed it and turned away.

Shiro seemed to have recovered from his shock, but he still looked conflicted about the situation. He turned to Allura for her opinion, but she just held out her hands in a weak, emotionless shrug. Seeing as that wasn’t going to get him anywhere, Shiro heaved a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This doesn’t get out to anyone other than the present company—we don’t want to see a single media piece suggesting that she’s ‘Princess Nala of New Altea.’ We’ll establish more ground rules later. Once she’s old enough, it’s up to her.”

Lance grinned at the verdict, and Blue’s triumphant hum echoed in his mind. He gazed back down at the bundle still in his arms. “You have quite the life ahead of you, little Nala, and no matter the name, you’ll always be everyone’s favorite lion cub.”

At that, he finally passed her on to Pidge, who was simultaneously intrigued and horrified by the concept of holding an infant.

(Some time later, just before the New Altean royal family prepared to depart Amri, Lance took Nala to see Blue and triumphantly hoisted her into the air so she was eye-to eye with the lion.

It was her place in the Circle of Life, after all.)


	2. Short and Sweet to the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, essentially, you want me to baby-proof your arm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, last weekend I updated one of my WIPs for the first time in months; I thought it was only fair that I attempt to do the same this weekend. Luckily, I succeeded!
> 
> Sorry for the wait, everyone. I haven't been having the best time lately (likely because I'm terrible at coping with my stress), so I haven't had the time/inspiration/interest in working on this. And despite enjoying season 4, I've been feeling very detached and ambivalent about Voltron in general. 
> 
> But I finally managed to complete this second chapter! It's just really fun to see some of the ideas I've had for over a year finally come to life. 
> 
> Like the last chapter was more Lance-centric, this time it's Pidge's turn. The format and overall execution of this chapter is a bit different than the previous one, but I think it works out a bit better this way. This story is meant to be a series of somewhat connected vignettes of each of the paladins reacting to the Shallura baby and gradually falling into using her nickname, so there won't necessarily be a set structure. The starring character pretty much determines the feel of each segment.
> 
> A couple notes: seeing as we've now had two seasons (or one full season, depending on how you see it) since this was first published, I should acknowledge that as of this time, only seasons 1 and 2 have canonically happened in this universe. I may change my mind later (or at the very least borrow a couple elements from later seasons), but at the moment the first two seasons are the only ones that have occurred the way they have on-screen. 
> 
> I don't really get into my reasoning behind Pidge's future career like I did with Lance, except: Small, sarcastic, committed to her family, doggedly pursues the truth to cases that others have left unsolved, uses taser-like weapon? I'm not saying that Pidge is Veronica Mars, but... Pidge is Veronica Mars.
> 
> As such, today's chapter title comes from "We Used to Be Friends" by the Dandy Warhols.
> 
> Without further ado: enjoy!

Well, _this_ looked bad.

At least, it sure did for Vincent Kellerman, but that’s what he got for not purging digital evidence of his illicit activities every once in a while. Not that Pidge was complaining, though—this job was so laughably easy that she thought her sides would split.

[ _File\Open\Dossier: Vincent Kellerman. Billionaire, playboy, jackass of all trades. Heir to the family company and already has a list of scandals as long as Zarkon’s reign. Implicated in numerous racketeering cases; known to have alliances with some unsavory characters. Only ever convicted in a case of public indecency two years prior—all other charges dropped thanks to father dearest’s legal team and monetary exchanges for the appropriate parties’ silence. Has a preference for blondes. Also has an_ awful _taste in music—his computer library alone should be grounds for arrest.]_

A long strand of blonde hair flopped unceremoniously in Pidge’s face, obscuring her vision in her left eye. She immediately drew her lips in an annoyed pout and tried to blow it out of the way, fingers never once leaving Vincent’s keyboard. Damn wig—the next time she did a job incognito, it wasn’t going to be with hair past her shoulders.

Her feet were starting to ache, but Pidge couldn’t afford to sit down. There needed to be as little evidence of her visit to Vincent’s office as possible, plus there was no guarantee that she would be able to get back up after taking a seat. As torturous as it was to let the offending patent leather heels continue to mangle her feet, the sooner she powered through the pain and gathered every last bit of incriminating data from Vincent’s computer, the sooner she could chuck the shoes down the stairwell and make an escape.

Too engrossed in the activity on the screen before her (yikes, that incident in Fresno would be enough to put Vincent away for a good few years), Pidge didn’t register the shuffling and click on the other side of the office door until it was almost too late.

“Well, _you’re_ not my 11 o’clock,” Vincent Kellerman greeted, voice somehow even smarmier in person than in the many, many gossip news videos in which he’d been featured. Pidge would know—she’d had to watch a good handful as research for this case, and now her gag reflex was working double-time.

Wren had been kind enough to offer some pointers in case such an event occurred [ _File\Open\Audio: “You have the blonde hair and the cute dress just long enough to leave a few things to the imagination. If you run into him, all you have to do is giggle a little and he won’t even think to ask what you’re doing there. And_ that’s _how you hack the brain of a shallow jerkwad.”_ ]. It was sound advice, but considering the files still flashing before Pidge’s eyes, following it was going to be a struggle.

“You don’t have an 11 o’clock,” she eventually corrected, voice strained in an attempt at a cheery tone. It came out not too dissimilar from an early-21st century AI who’d been asked to read off the user’s daily calendar. “Your receptionist scheduled an IT appointment for this time because there weren’t any conflicts.”

Vincent arched an eyebrow and widened his sleazy smile as he slithered into the office. “IT, hmm? Where have they been hiding you...” he trailed off to glance down at the lanyard around Pidge’s neck (her stomach roiling in reaction) “…Kitty?”

The download was at 88% completion, and Pidge held back a groan as it became clear that she needed to buy some time. [ _File\Open\Alias: Kitty Verdant, IT department at Kellerman Global, 5ft6.5in in heels]_ would have to step up to the plate.

“I’ve been… around,” Pidge— _Kitty_ —giggled, and subsequently hid a cringe when it came out like space mice chatter.

“Well, I sure haven’t seen you, but I can’t say I’ve had computer problems before,” Vincent grinned as he crept closer. He froze after a few steps, brow furrowing as if a thought was actually passing through his echo chamber of a brain. “Wait, _why_ are you here?”

The screen flashed with a “Download complete” message, which was luckily right out of Vincent’s line of sight. But if he came any closer, it wouldn’t be for long.

[ _File\Open\Audio <fast forward>: “…you have to do is giggle…”_]

Ah, screw it.

[ _Delete audio file? Y/N_

_Audio file deleted._

_Application\Activate\Taser_.]

It wasn’t her bayard, but Pidge’s green-painted taser was handy in a pinch. Still, it wasn’t much help when she had to heft Vincent and his lightly smoking Armani jacket off the floor and onto the futon in the corner of the office. Best case scenario, he’d assume he passed out after brunch and dreamt up the whole encounter—at least, until he found a nasty virus on his computer and heard the avalanche from his mountain of felonies rushing towards him.

The latter would take a few days to hit, once Pidge turned the information over to the proper authorities and the media caught the scent. She wouldn’t be around to see it personally.

Whoever came down that stairwell next would find a nice, lightly used pair of size 6 three-inch heels, and no trace of their donor thanks to looped security footage.

* * *

“Another successful extraction, I take it?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘successful’,” Pidge returned, depositing “Kitty’s” dress on the floor as she eased herself through her office window. Even though she’d ditched her disguise for the clothes she’d stashed at a coffee shop down the street from Kellerman Global and taken evasive maneuvers on her way back to the office, she wasn’t going to risk using the front door.

Wren snorted and stepped closer. “Did you get the information _and_ exact a little premature revenge?” she clarified, plucking the dress off the floor and closing the window once Pidge made it through. “Just the information would complete the objective, of course, but I know well enough that you wouldn’t face down a sleaze like Vincent Kellerman without leaving him worse for wear, yeah, Boss?”

“Oh, is that so, Little Birdie?” Pidge shot back playfully, bumping shoulders with her protégé.

Wren rolled her eyes in stereotypical teenage fashion, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a grin. “I’ll recharge the taser. Want me to send word to our regular customers that we’ve procured their intel?”

“Go for it. I told Agent Hagen that we’d get it to her by end of week. Let’s make her Hump Day.” Pidge slipped the incriminating data stick out of her sweatshirt pocket and flipped it into Wren’s open hand.

“Aye aye, cap’n,” the younger girl replied with a mock salute as she reached for the door knob, but she hesitated a moment before turning it. “Oh, I almost forgot, there’s this stupidly well-built guy with a prosthetic arm and a baby in the waiting room. Should I send him…”

Before she could finish, Pidge had vaulted over her desk and yanked open the office door. Sure enough, there was Shiro, and…

“What the hell, you’re actually wearing a Baby Björn.”

Shiro gave her a disapproving look, pointedly covering a sleeping Alcora’s ears to protect her from Auntie Pidge’s foul language. “Lovely to see you too, Pidge. And yes, it’s actually a pretty effective baby carrier.”

“Whatever you say, Space Dad,” Pidge drawled, before coming in for a hug with the Black Paladin and his daughter. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit!”

Shiro pulled back after a moment and shrugged. “Allura and Lance got pulled into some last-minute Alliance-Garrison meetings, and I realized we hadn’t had the chance to introduce Alcora to your parents and Matt. I figured we’d stop by and surprise you, and then meet up with them later on—after all, I’ve never seen your office.”

Pidge grinned and swept an arm in a dramatic gesture. “Welcome to paradise! And what a sight it is to behold. Why, I’d say it gives the Castleship a run for its money with its elegance.”

(The snicker that arose from behind the stack of papers on Wren’s desk didn’t go unnoticed. If anything, the office resembled the shack Keith and his conspiracy board had holed up in post-Kerberos.)

Shiro arched an eyebrow at the exaggerated fanfare, but put a hand on Pidge’s shoulder. “You’re doing good work, Pidge, and that’s what matters. But… ‘Philip D. Byrd Investigative Agency’? Is there some significance to the na-….”

He cut off and immediately brought his prosthetic to pinch the bridge of his nose as the answer to his question dawned on him. “Pidge…”

“What can I say? I don’t like to false advertise. Our clients turn to us so they can tell people who’ve wronged them where to shove it.”

“If you look closely, you’ll see that the third feather on each wing of the logo is slightly longer than the rest,” Wren added, dark curls bouncing as she popped her head up. “That was my idea!”

Shiro let out a sigh, before finally dropping his hand from his face and into a loose shrug. “Alright, credit for ingenuity. To be fair, I’d probably do something similar in your situation, but—”

“It would tarnish your image as the ‘responsible adult’ figure?” Pidge cut in with a grin. “Too late. I’ve unearthed certain stories from your cadet days, and let’s not forget that my brother and dad were stuck in a tiny spacecraft with you for months. You have a very eclectic taste in music, but not the vocal range to pull it off, so I hear.”

[ _Application\Open\Camera_ ]—if she’d been a little bit quicker on the draw, Pidge could have actually captured Shiro’s tired, unamused expression on her phone camera. The mental image would have to do.

She was jolted out of her amusement upon noticing how Shiro was gingerly moving his prosthetic, cringing discreetly in pain.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you needed maintenance?”

The Black Paladin guiltily flicked his eyes away from his arm. “Well, I was getting to that point. I wanted this to be more of a social call, but… it stings a bit at the connection, like a slight shock. I think the wiring is still a little out-of-whack from when Alcora was born.”

“You mean when your wife and daughter crumpled some of the sturdiest material we’ve found in the universe with brute strength alone?” Pidge deadpanned as she lifted the prosthetic—still attached to its owner—for a cursory examination. “I don’t see any superficial damage, but I’ll have to take a look inside the casing.” She glanced over her shoulder at the desk as she guided father and daughter into her office. “Wren…”

The girl in question shot her a thumbs-up without looking up from the file in her hands. “Hold down the fort. I know the drill, Boss.”

Closing the door, Pidge gestured to the chair on the opposite side of her desk before she turned to the closet for her gear. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Shiro gently take a seat, good hand cushioning the back of the baby’s head to avoid jostling her.

“So, not that I’m not glad to see you and all that, but you literally live a galaxy away,” Pidge started, still elbows-deep in various tools and tech. “If this has been bothering you even after we made the initial repairs, wouldn’t it have been easier to go to Hunk—or even Coran—for help? This sounds like more of an engineering fix, one that they could easily handle.”

Shiro nodded hesitantly. “True, I probably could have resolved the wiring issue earlier, but I decided to wait because I had another request—one related more to the programming.”

Pidge looked up in surprise as she dropped her toolkit on the desk. A programming issue was certainly more her forte, but for one to crop up so soon after the last diagnostics test…

“It’s not a glitch or anything.” Shiro must have noticed the worry on her face and hastily reassured her. “I was thinking more in terms of additional programming, and was wondering if you could patch it into the existing code.”

There was a moment of silence, but after a sigh Shiro continued. “Look, I… I avoid talking about it too much, but I still get flashbacks sometimes. It’s at the point where I’ve recovered most of what happened during my captivity, so most of them are ‘greatest hits’ reruns rather than new content. But for a few moments, I’m back in the arena, and that ‘fight-to-survive’ instinct activates—my _arm_ activates. Usually I can pull myself out before anything happens, but now that we have Alcora around, I feel even more protective, and…”

He trailed off, casting his gaze down to the sleeping child curled against his chest. “We’re in a time of relative peace. The Galra Empire has fallen, Zarkon is no longer a threat to the universe, and the Paladins of Voltron have been relieved of active duty. Unless someone manages to get past an entire royal guard—get past _Keith_ —or I decide to take up woodworking, I don’t have much use for an arm that can cut through just about anything. I still want to hold on to the feature in case of a drastic event, but… maybe we could make activating it a little bit more complex—add in a few steps or conditions that must be met before reaching that function?” He shook his head. “It’s been easier to trust my mind these last few years, but I still don’t want to risk it.”

 _Not when I have a child around_ , was the unspoken reason that hung in the air.

Pidge nodded absently as she grabbed her laptop and the equipment necessary to link the prosthetic to it. Shiro’s logic was sound—he didn’t really have to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, not anymore, and it was understandable that he wouldn’t want to hold an infant with an arm that could so easily become a weapon. Once they agreed on the conditions for reactivation, that would be an easy fix.

Still, she couldn’t help but be amused by the real root of the situation.

“So, essentially, you want me to baby-proof your arm?”

Shiro blinked, stunned, before letting out a hearty laugh. “When you put it like that, I guess that _is_ what we’re doing. Might be a little bit more complicated than putting up a baby gate and keeping track of sharp objects, though.”

“Eh, shouldn’t be too hard to code that in,” Pidge said, setting up the appropriate supplies. “It just might take a little while to run the diagnostics test and such, but once we fix that wiring issue everything should be relatively painless.”

And so she set to work. There was indeed a small flaw in the wiring where prosthetic met flesh, but a few minutes of tinkering solved that problem.

Determining the conditions for re-weaponizing the prosthetic took a bit longer, as they needed to be complex enough that the arm couldn’t activate on its own or in the middle of a flashback, but still easy to meet in case of an emergency. The Black and Green paladins came to an agreement soon enough, and Pidge immediately began crafting the code.

That just left the diagnostics. With the new code patched in, this was a crucial step, one which would take a bit of time to complete and review.

“Better get comfortable,” Pidge warned. She began to settle into her own seat, but hesitated once her eyes fell on the baby. Though she’d miraculously remained asleep throughout the initial stages, she was beginning to stir. “Uh, do… do you want me to take her?”

Shiro opened his mouth, likely to turn down the offer, as he rubbed his left hand in small circles on the child’s back. However, his gaze soon traveled to his right hand, half-obscured by wires hooked up to Pidge’s laptop—a glaring reminder of the danger it still posed unless the code was properly applied.

Pidge decided to take the initiative before those thoughts went any further and beckoned with both arms. “You’ll be more relaxed, and honestly, I need more experience with children,” she reasoned. “You saw what happened that one time on Ailenroc.”

Shiro shot her a sympathetic look, but gently began to ease the baby carrier off of his shoulders. “It might not be appropriate to speak of our allies like this, but Cirdec and the rest of the king’s children were little demons. I’m sorry you had to put up with them that whole trip.”

Pidge shrugged it off as she carefully accepted the half-conscious bundle of baby. Considering that mission started with said demon children clonking her on the head with a castle gate, simply surviving was victory enough.

Soon enough, both paladins were settled in, and the diagnostics test could begin. The room fell silent, as Pidge was engrossed in the lines of code crawling across the screen, keeping a keen eye out for any errors.

The first few stages passed without issue, and the new restrictions seemed to fit in just fine, much to Pidge’s relief. She half-turned to reassure Shiro of this fact, when suddenly:

* _snaaaaar-g-kkkkk*_

Had it not been for the infant in her arms, Pidge would have jumped out of her skin at the sound. Once she’d managed to calm herself down _[Application\System Diagnostics\Lower Heartrate]_ , she pried her eyes away from the computer to search out the source.

It didn’t take too long.

Shiro was sprawled in his seat, limbs more relaxed than Pidge had ever seen. His face was slack in sleep, with his mouth partway open and emitting a series of deep, broken snores.

It was a sweet, hilarious, and absolutely blackmail-worthy sight to behold.

Pidge fumbled for her phone to capture the moment, but paused once she felt the bundle in her arms shift. She looked down just in time for tiny, bright blue eyes to meet her gaze.

Shiro let out another snore, and Alcora’s chubby cheeks wrinkled in a concerning manner. Desperately hoping to avoid learning of the lung capacity of a screaming half-Altean infant, Pidge hurried to defuse the situation.

“Hey, hey there, nothing to worry about, that’s just your dad,” she murmured as she moved her arms in a light bouncing motion. “He sure sounds like a lion, doesn’t he? Kind of scary. I mean, lions like Green and Black and Blue aren’t scary, but they’re sentient robot lions, not _lion_ -lions like Earth lions. Although those aren’t always scary either…”

Those reassuring rambles didn’t seem to have as much of a comforting effect as she’d hoped, as the baby’s eyes closed and her mouth slowly began to open.

Pidge was out of time and out of options, but if she didn’t do something, then Shiro was in for a rude awakening. Considering how limp and deep asleep he was in the chair, that was certainly something he didn’t need right now. So Pidge dove for one last-ditch effort and began humming the first tune that came to mind.

No one in the Holt family was particularly musically-inclined, so humming was somewhat of a shared quirk. Sam was likely the root of it all, as he had a tendency to let his days unfold to the soundtrack of old show tunes and a few self-created ditties, much to the embarrassment of his children. Colleen had outright admitted that her husband was the instigator of her own habit, though it had certainly helped keep her calm and concentrated during some major surgeries.

Matt reserved humming almost solely for classwork-related situations, often interspersing a bit of tone-deaf singing in-between segments. Pidge lost track of how many times she’d walked by her brother’s room and heard _hmm hmm hmmmmm what am I do-iiiiiiing hmm hmm_ and other hits. If it was an especially brutal exam, he’d break out the dirges.

Pidge had never really picked up the habit herself—it was an unnecessary distraction when she needed to stay focused, and had never really been much help for keeping her nerves under control. It just wasn’t as natural for her.

Yet it had been an instinctive decision when faced with the likelihood of a squalling infant—it was strange, but it seemed to be effective, as Alcora’s features had relaxed and she was gazing up at Pidge in wonder.

Maybe that was it. She’d never had the need or desire to hum for her own sake, but it was just the remedy to soothe an upset child.

The tune came to an end and Pidge trailed off, bracing herself for the screaming to finally begin. Much to her surprise, the baby just burbled contently, unbothered by the snoring.

Pidge carefully shifted Alcora to a more upright position against the crook of her right arm before raising an eyebrow at the infant. “Really? That’s all it takes to make you happy?”

The little toothless smile that came after made Pidge wonder exactly how early Altean children began to understand spoken word.

Before she could think on the matter anymore, the laptop beeped upon the completion of an errorless diagnostics run. It looked like everything was all set with the new coding—all that was left was a physical test.

Shiro had shuffled a bit when the results came up, but otherwise he was still fast asleep. While he would definitely understand—welcome it, even—when Pidge woke him to test the new function… it could still wait a while.

Pidge would have to look into adding a few audio files to the prosthetic for the next baby-friendly update, once she found a few good songs to hum. Right now, though, there were other matters to attend to.

“Well, I’m not letting such a high-profile niece of mine go anywhere without a reliable fake ID,” she murmured conspiratorially to Alcora as she opened up a new file on her laptop. “How about it, _Nala_?”

The pleasant giggle from the child in question was as satisfying as Matt and the other paladins’ reactions to the video she’d sent of Shiro passed out in the office.

(Maybe even more.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I don't outright say it, but after all that talk of lions, Pidge was definitely humming "The Lion Sleeps Tonight."
> 
> This ended up being a bit different than I anticipated, but I like where it led me. Really, the only things I knew going in was that Pidge was a private detective, and Shiro was going to ask her to baby-proof his arm. The rest just came together along the way. Also, the computer-like bits scattered throughout are inspired by the Pidge-centric issue of the first volume of the VLD comic. This was my take on it.
> 
> If all goes according to plan, Hunk's story is up next! Much like with Pidge's chapter, I have general concepts I want to include, so we'll see how everything falls into place!
> 
> Until then!

**Author's Note:**

> Never ask me to name characters, because I will go nuts trying to pick something that sounds pretty and has a particular meaning (ended up with "Hoshiko" because I wanted a Japanese name for star). Even when it's a made-up name, I'll still end up with one that's supposed to be really meaningful within the context, and then paint myself into a corner because having Lance just disregard a really heartfelt moment and decide to go with a nickname just seemed like a jerk move. 
> 
> (Cue impromptu lion magic to help adjust the situation.) 
> 
> While I have yet to start writing any upcoming chapters, I do have the gist of each one in mind, as well as the order in which they'll play out. I want to say that things should go smoothly because of that, but seeing as this chapter spiraled pretty out of control, we'll see how it goes.
> 
> In the meantime, you can catch me over on Tumblr as obscure-sentimentalist.


End file.
